


Spilled Coffee and Arrogant Hotshots

by andamiro (arysthaeniru)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, Bad Pick-Up Lines, F/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysthaeniru/pseuds/andamiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An really doesn’t understand the fuss around Kirihara Akaya, cello prodigy and popular artist. Sure, he’s sort of pretty, but isn’t everybody in this industry? Besides, it can’t be worth an attitude like that, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spilled Coffee and Arrogant Hotshots

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the [Tenipuri X-Pair Exchange](http://tenipuri-xpair.livejournal.com/), a a sort of last bang, since it's more and more clear that my interest in tenipuri is waning. I have a few fics to finish up, yet, but I doubt I'll be starting anything new, anymore. 
> 
> I enjoyed writing this, but I also saw a lot of flaws in it. I think had it not been for my recipient's requests, I would have written it a little different, but there we go.

Honestly, being a member of a hot-shot music group wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. For one, when you started, it was near impossible to get any gigs, competing against people who were appealing to niche markets, such as the idols or the visual kei groups or hip-hop groups. When your group consisted of one powerhouse vocalist and sexy dancer (An), a sassy rapper and producer (Tomo-chan) and a sweet, innocent vocalist and beautiful lyric writer (Sakuno-chan), they turned out to be rather versatile as a group. Their albums were eclectic and all over the place, which made it a little difficult to keep fans. People liked hearing a consistent sound, which An thought was stupid, frankly. The world was filled with shifting, changing music trends, and ideas. It was just the nature of the globalized world, and if you didn’t adapt and utilise the different talents and sounds and ideas that existed, you would die out. And An intended their group to last as long as possible. 

And somehow, despite the world still preferring niche groups, the Kaleidoscope Girls had managed to hit it big with their previous release. People all over Asia were singing their song, and apparently, if the internet was any indication, it was starting to hit some western circles too, which was amazing, for a group who’d barely sold anything before. An still remembered the pathetic fanmeets they’d held in the first year of their existence, and how Sakuno-chan had gone home to cry in the bathrooms and Tomo-chan had stalked around the streets of Tokyo, to drive off her woes. 

And then five weeks ago, they’d hit number one, on the Oricon Charts with their viral song, practically impossible for a non-idol band who’d been virtually unknown before. Upon hearing the news, Tomo, An and Sakuno had screamed, gotten very drunk in their apartment and spent all of the next day stupidly grinning, even through their awful hangover. 

Of course, their company, being smart, was planning to bank on that victory, pushing them to be everywhere all at once. The past month had been filled with photoshoots, new music videos to tide over fans about some other songs on their album, dance practises for remixes of the song and performance versions of the song, variety shows to talk about the song and make their faces and personalities more known to the general public. And now, they were starting on their first major tour, across five different countries, where they would do mini concerts and fanmeets. 

Tomo-chan had been bouncing with nervous excitement all day, nervous for their first day of touring in Singapore, but An was just tired, if she was honest. Having exposure was better than being unknown, anybody with sense would agree with that, and she had spent _far_ too many days in the past being so idle. But she hadn’t slept more than nine hours this whole week, and it was taking its toll on her. She wasn’t like Sakuno who could sleep absolutely anywhere if she had her panda neckpillow, which meant she was grumpily awake in the airport lounge, watching as Tomo pestered their manager with increasingly annoying questions, wishing that she was back in her bed. 

Tomo’s voice was starting to take on a sort of buzzing quality, that came from not having to breathe at all in order to talk or rap (sometimes An wondered whether Tomo was human), and even their amazingly patient manager looked like she was about to die. When Tomo got like this, only Sakuno could calm her down, with whispered words between them, but of course, Sakuno was next to An, whuffling softly and endearingly into her panda pillow, soft pink lips open and eyelashes fluttering. 

It was probably a sign that An needed more happiness and sleep in her life, when the sight of someone else being able to sleep made her feel intense fury. To avoid doing something that she would regret, An stood up suddenly, and straightened her favourite hoodie. 

“Kame-san, I’m going to grab some coffee and some pastries. Want anything?” she asked, politely to their manager. 

“No, thank you. Make sure to not get anything too sugary, we’re still working on that diet.” her manager answered, easily and Tomo, who’d looked like she was about to ask for something, deflated suddenly. Shrugging helplessly at Tomo, An left the lounge, happy to be doing something to try and stave off the anger and intense exhaustion. Tomo loved sugar intensely and passionately, which meant that their current diet was painful for her. An, who wasn’t quite as attached to sugary sweets, was doing a bit better, but she was rather frustrated about the lack of bread in her life. Bread always reminded her of Kippei and how they’d used to bake together and talk, when An had been in training, and how he’d been her confidante. It always made her relaxed, and now she couldn’t even eat that. 

Frustrating, but everything in his industry was about sacrifice. Work hard now, enjoy it later. An shoved her hands into her hoodie and leant back, as she waited in line for the coffee. She was getting rather fed up of _later_ , and it had barely even been three years. God, how was she going to do this?

“Black coffee, please.” said An, with a cough, “Extra hot, if you can.” By the frank stare that the barista was giving her, An had forgotten to keep on her mask, and she almost flushed. Rookie mistake, she couldn’t afford that, especially when she only had minimal makeup on. She smiled, with embarrassment at the barista, who almost spilled the milk, and An turned to look away, a slight feeling of happiness.

It was one thing to get attention during fanmeets and all, but being recognized around the city was something else. Very flattering, very satisfying, even if possibly dangerous for her career. Whatever. Taking a brief moment to close her eyes and lean back against the wall of the cart, An felt a frank exhaustion settle over her bones. Times like this were the times when she really should call Akira or Tetsu, and let their mothering, gentle tones soothe over her aching body, but even that felt like too much effort. 

“Black coffee for A--” An opened her eyes and grabbed the coffee before the barista could finish his sentence, and pressed a finger to her lips, with a quick wink. The barista spluttered but nodded back. Taking a deep sip of the rich coffee, An sighed, contentedly, slowly meandering across the airport floor, in absolutely zero hurry to get back to the private lounge. Due to their flight being delayed by like an hour, she had plenty of time to spare, and she was content to just wander the airport, easily. 

At least that was the plan, up until she collided straight into someone, who was rather heavy, muscled and going at a very fast speed. An was strong from hours in the dance room, but there was no preventing this. With a soft ‘oof’ from the air leaving her body, An toppled backwards, feeling the hot coffee spill all over her favourite hoodie and cascade over the front of the stranger who’d barrelled her down, awkwardly trapping her legs, with awkward limbs and a heavy suitcase. She cried out in pain, as the man tried to get up, and accidentally pressed down on her boobs.

“What the fuck.” she hissed, pushing him away, to the side, reaching downwards to cradle her shin, which was throbbing with pain, from what looked like a cello case toppling down on top of it. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Shit, shit shit, please don’t kill me, I’m so sorry, but my plane’s going to leave soon and I’m so fucking la--” babbled the man, as he pulled himself upwards, and held out a hand to pull her up, falling silent as he caught sight of her face. Taking his hand up wordlessly, An scanned over his face. With a sloping pixie nose, mischievous green eyes and curly black hair, he was unmistakably Kirihara Akaya: the youngest cello player in the world to have his own solo concert doing some of the most difficult pieces in the world, but had been ultimately ignored, until five years ago, when he had appeared on a talent show and had charmed the world with his playing and his boyish personality. 

She still remembered watching the programme and being awed by exactly how well he’d teased out the mournful sounds from the cello, an all-encompassing sadness emanating from the piece which had seemed completely at odds with his cheerful demeanour at the time. But after three years of her own in the music industry, An now knew exactly how much depth could be hidden behind a cute smile and how much courage it must have taken, to show that side of himself to the world. 

…okay, maybe she’d gone through a little bit of a puppy crush at some point, but with hot coffee rolling down her arms, all thoughts of admiration were gone, and the only thing that was occupying her brain was sheer frustration. 

“Fuck.” Kirihara muttered, breaking An’s train thought, abruptly. “Fuck, is your company going to sue me for like damaging their idol?” he asked, as An realized the heat and the uncomfortable feeling of coffee seeping onto her skin. She stripped off the sodden hoodie, with an unhappy frown. That was probably unsalvageable. 

“No.” An answered absently, as she tossed it into the nearby bin, with a longing look, “I’m not an idol. But my fans might skewer you for touching me, famous cello prodigy or no, so I want another coffee to have to deal with the inevitable PR fiasco.” 

Kirihara looked a bit panicked, as he looked around them, quickly, pulling his cello and luggage upright again. An followed his gaze. Nobody seemed to have snapped a picture of their embarrassing incident, though there were definitely people staring. Still, it was the age of technology advances who knew what cameras were around. It was better to assume that something bad had happened and go from there. “But I’m late--”

“Tough.” An said, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m sticky and half-asleep and really ready to kill something--I need coffee, and you owe me that much for running into me like an ass.”

Kirihara muttered something unflattering under his breath, as he plucked at his own soaked black shirt, but stalked over to the nearest coffee stand with her. “One black coffee please.” An said, coolly, and Kirihara jumped in, over her shoulder, “And a cappuccino, thanks.” He forked out his card, looking bored, and An grabbed some of the napkins on the counter, to pat at the sticky mess on her arms, but when pieces of white started to cling to her arms instead, she gave up and decided to go and wash up in the bathroom, when Kirihara left. 

“Where are you in such a hurry to, anyway?” asked An, tossing away the sodden mess of towels. 

“Changi, Singapore, my flight’s leaving in like two minutes, I’m going to miss the pre-boarding because of you.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. An’s eyes narrowed, with a mixture of judgement and curiosity.

“With Singapore Airlines?” she asked, quietly. 

“Yeah. Why?” asked Kirihara, turning to look at her, nonplussed expression over his features. It was sort of cute. “You some sort of mega-stan or something? I can understand that, I’m hot as hell.” He flipped his hair, and winked, obnoxiously and her previous thoughts of him being almost cute vanished in an instant. God, she hated guys who were full-of-themselves. 

“Perish the thought.” An said, faking a full-body shudder at that thought, feeling quite satisfied by his scowl at that, “But that’s actually my plane, and we got delayed by an entire hour and a half, which you should know, if you were actually organized. We could have avoided being splashed with my hot coffee.”

Kirihara’s mouth dropped open, with sheer shock. “You’re fucking kidding me, aren’t you Tachibana-chan? I ran all the way here and it’s fucking delayed?” he demanded, sounding horrified. 

An snickered softly, pressing a hand to her mouth. “That’s what having the airport app installed on your phone is for.” Internally, she could only feel a little more interested. Very few casual listeners of her music knew her as anything but An-chan. The thought that the aloof, talented, obnoxious Kirihara-kun was actually aware of her full name like an obsessive fan, made her very smug inside. 

Their coffees were called, and An picked it up, being careful to attach the cap of the coffee properly and stop any more incidents from happening in the future. “Thanks, I guess.” she said, rubbing her fingers down her sticky wrist, “Good luck with whatever you’re doing in Singapore. I’m going to go and wash up so--” She made a vague motion towards the bathroom and a weird hand-flip that might have been a wave. 

Kirihara sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, looking very tired and nervous, all of a sudden. “Want me to hold your coffee for you while you go? We have time, I guess.”

An blinked, carefully. That was a surprising request, the sort of nice action without prompting that she hadn’t come to expect from boys that weren’t Kippei. “Oh. Yeah. That’d be nice, I suppose.” she said, giving him a small, rueful smile. “I’ll do the same for you once I’m done, your shirt can’t be comfy.” 

He nodded, as he gripped her coffee carefully and An slipped inside, to mop at her hands, and her ruined shirt. Having already checked in most of her clothes, and only having a spare jacket and blanket in her hand-luggage back with the manager, she was just going to have to deal with the fact that her shirt was vaguely coffee-stained now. She dampened it in the sink as best as she could, and thanked the lord that the shirt had a sort of vintage look that might make the coffee stains look intentional instead of a mistake. Her skin was sort of red and a little sensitive, but wasn’t burning from pain or anything, which was a good sign. Burns would have been a bad thing to deal with through their concert schedule. 

After giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror, to make her look less of a dishevelled mess, An slipped out of the bathroom, to stand next to Kirihara’s luggage and grab their coffees. The hot, rich taste of black coffee through her veins made her feel a little less homicidal. The advantage to this whole situation was that she was thoroughly awake now, and wouldn’t have to worry about drifting around in a miserable tired state. And now the caffeine was slowly making life less miserable, she felt more willing to be the chirpy An-chan that was part of the Kaleidoscope Girls. 

“Thanks.” Kirihara said, scooping his coffee out of her hands. His button-down black shirt had been replaced by a dark-blue long-sleeves shirt, fashionably ripped and stressed at the sleeves and collar, which somehow made him look hotter. “Didn’t really take you to be a black coffee sort of person, Tachibana-san.”

“Low sugar diet.” An said, with a shrug, as she drained her cup, and dumped the cup into the trash bin next to the bathrooms, straightening upwards. “But even without that, not the hugest fan of sugary sweet stuff. My brother and I always used to eat healthy.” 

Kirihara nodded. “Smart.” he said, with a shrug as they slowly started to walk through the airport. It was surprisingly easy to fall into step with him. “Makes looking after yourself when you’re older good. Supposedly. I’m not amazing at following my diet, so I wouldn’t know about the benefits.” he said, with an easy laugh. 

“You have a diet?” asked An, feeling curious despite herself. “Didn’t think that anybody except idols and wannabe-idols had that sort of management.”

Kirihara pulled a face, his nose wrinkling upwards with a surprising cuteness. No wonder he was popular among older women, something about him made you want to take care of him. Until you realized that he was a cocky shit, she supposed. “Something about longevity and good influences and some shit. I think my manager’s just trying to pit me against Yuzuru Hanyu for available young bachelor of the year, honestly. Because that kid keeps himself fit.”

An laughed, pressing her hands to her mouth, to hide the huge grin on her face. “It’s unfair to compare.”

“Oh yeah? I mean, how can Yuzuru compete with a face like this, right?” Kirihara said, flashing her a huge smile. It _was_ a pretty cute smile, but An would rather throw herself off the top of Tokyo Tower than admit it, when he was so clearly fishing for compliments. 

“I meant it’s not even a competition because he’s way hotter than you. I mean, have you seen his abs? And his arms are so muscly and dreamy.” she said, pretending to swoon in fake-thirst, unable to completely hide the laugh at his look of distaste.

Pulling at his sleeves, he scowled. “I have muscles. You know how ripped you have to be to hold a cello and drag it around everywhere? Pretty damn fit. I bet my arms are better.” 

With a disdainful laugh, An turned to the cello and tapped the case, easily. “Nice try, but the case has wheels. And you don’t even hold up a cello, you just prop it between your legs and balance it nicely. Playing a _violin_ requires more upper arm strength than playing cello.” 

“Well, you know, a cello isn’t the only interesting thing between my legs.” He said, with a lecherous wink. “If you know what I mean.” 

An spluttered for a full moment, unbelievable to believe her ears. “What.” she said, filling that one word with all of her disdain. God, she hadn’t had enough coffee to be ready for people hitting on her. And this badly....well, she hadn’t had experiences like this for a very long time. not since she’d become a trainee, in any case. 

Not seeming to understand how weirded out An was, he continued. “We could get in _treble_ and go all the way to third base.” he said, waggling his eyebrows now. If the terrible puns weren’t bad enough, the conversation itself was awkward and uncomfortable, and he _couldn’t take a hint_ about this, since he seemed to be opening his mouth _again_ , so An cut him off, quickly.

“Hey, you know why else Yuzuru Hanyu is more popular than you? He has shame and a sense of politeness. You might want to try it sometime.” she snapped, storming away back towards the lounge, the momentary sense of calm that had come from the caffeine quickly evaporating. God. And he was on the same flight as her? She’d have to wrestle the window seat from Tomo and make sure he was as far away from her as possible. 

She didn’t want to have to deal with that awkwardness again. 

(X)

Suppressing a yawn behind her hand, An leant back in her chair, with a few inappropriately sounding squeaks from the old leather. Behind her, the stylist was still messing around with her short hair, curling it at the edges, and giving it blonde-highlights, so she looked a little softer around the edges, in a way that made her a little more approachable. She didn’t quite like the way blonde made her look, but it was better than the one unadvised time that she’d gone with pink streaks and had looked very, very odd. Shinji had once called her to just laugh for a full five minutes and Kyosuke had had plenty of things to say about An finally becoming a girly girl, which had made those three months of pink very difficult to deal with. 

Somehow, almost a month after their tour had finished, and two months since their last release, they were still relevant, people still wanting to see their faces on things, and hear them. An was a little bemused, but grateful by the steady income that was finally trickling down to them, the sudden attention they were receiving had managed to pay their debts and allow her to send a bit of cash home to Kippei, to try and pay back a little bit of what he’d done by supporting her. 

“Alright, all done. The photographer wants to see you now, so you can meet the other model.” said the stylist, as An straightening upwards, bowing to thank her for the hard work. 

Peering out into the room, An bowed lowly to greet the photographer, who greeted her politely. Then, to her horror, from the side, carrying a large prop box and wearing one of the most stylish casual suits An had ever seen on guys, was Kirihara Akaya. Of _course_ he was the other model for Nylon Japan. And of course he had the _gall_ to look damn well good in his clothes. 

It made sense, in an annoying way. Nylon always chose the hottest new celebrities who popular among the youth to model for their covers, and Kirihara was making waves with his new album, thanks to his numerous collaborations with a lot of popular artists from around the world. Not to mention the variety show that he co-hosted with one of the prettiest actresses in the world, which made him almost omnipresent in the entertainment industry, with his pretty face. It didn’t mean she had to like it though, not after their awkward meeting last time. 

“Oh, it’s you.” An said, sighing exasperatedly before she could stop the words escaping from her mouth. She quickly bowed to him, politely but formally, and he reciprocated, eyebrow raised in amusement. She had half a mind to run a hand through her hair, under his intense gaze, but she was also pretty sure that the stylist would stab her in the eyeball with the hair straighteners if An did anything of the sort. “Let’s just get this over with, Kirihara-san.” 

Kirihara looked at her for a moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes, that for a moment, almost looked hurt, before he just rolled his eyes, cocky and haughty, the fabric stretching over his shoulders with a little too much grace for An’s liking. “Yeah, yeah, sooner this is over, sooner I can go leave.”

The photographer shot a despairing look at An, and An bowed apologetically back at them, before the whole team started to pose her and Kirihara. Regardless of their personal hang-ups, An and Kirihara were both very good at their jobs, that much was clear by the way that Kirihara effortlessly angled himself to hit the camera, with just the right expression to make him desirable. An wasn’t sure if she was doing the same, but the photographer had approximately zero complaints for her, same as Kirihara, which had to mean something about her prowess. 

The lights were hot, and her makeup was just starting to reach the point of uncomfortable, as the photographers demanded they get a little closer together, using the weird props around them, to balance upon. He propped his elbow on her shoulder and she leant back against his chest, in a manner that would look intimate on camera, but was actually just very uncomfortable, especially with An trying her best to not let her bodyweight actually fall against Kirihara. Slight muscles showing through his suit jacket or not, she didn’t particular trust him to not let her fall. Her thighs were fairly strong from hours in dance studio, but this pose was difficult to hold while still looking effortless. 

They did another few shots like that, where Kirihara’s hands were all over her, and she tried to pretend that she was aloof to them, until the photographer exhaled and shook his head. “And we were doing so well. Take a break, then come back and pretend that you’re not awkward with each other long enough for me to get a good group shot for the front page, please?” 

An exhaled and shook back her curled hair, hand going to her fringe which was not clipped back with cute hairclips for once, but braided up, to look more sophisticated. She was tired already, and she wanted this photoshoot to be over. And apparently that meant she had to try and pretend to like Kirihara without giving him any ideas. Accepting a cup of tea from Kame-san in the corner, An bit down on the straw, contemplatively. 

“Kame-san, was it okay?” she asked, tugging at the tight dress she was wearing, feeling self-conscious under the gaze of her strict manager, suddenly. 

Kame-san looked up from her phone, like it was a huge burden, but noticed the look in An’s eyes and exhaled, heavily. “You’re tense today. Relax a little. Pretend you’re on stage; go boneless like you usually do.” 

An looked down. “But....” she said, not really sure what she was protesting, in all honesty. Her gaze slid over to where Kirihara had flopped to the floor, where his manager was fussing over his tie, rolling his eyes with smooth subtle motions. They seemed very close, and An felt a small twinge of jealousy, for a moment. Kame-san was very down-to-earth and knew everything, but she wasn’t exactly close with any of the three of them. 

Kame-san turned to look over at Kirihara as well, and her eyes sparked with recognition. “The kid that spilled coffee all over you? The famous cello player that we had to do a PR cover-up for? What’s the matter? You don’t actually like him, do you?” Kame-san sounded very worried for a moment and An was quick to shake her head, and deny it, loudly. 

“No, no! It’s the opposite problem actually.” An said, pulling a face. “He’s obnoxious, but I have to pretend to like him.”

“Oh trust me, that’s much easier than the opposite.” Kame-san said, instantly relaxing back into her chair, not even looking in the slightest bit concerned. “Just pretend that he’s someone hot that you like, and flop all over him. That’s what they’re looking for anyway.” Seeing An’s skeptical look, Kame-san rolled her eyes. “Alright, then just go and talk to him, then. Find something about him that’s bearable and focus on that for the rest of the shoot.”

“But...”

“But nothing. Stop angsting, otherwise I’ll be the one to get in trouble for your face having wrinkles.” Kame-san snapped, returning to her phone, making it quite clear that the conversation was over. Some use her manager was. 

Violently finishing her tea, An dumped it into the bin and shook her hair back again, as she stepped out onto the floor, where Kirihara was waiting, a bored look on his face as he absently kicked one of the props, as the photographers adjusted the lighting. “Curly hair’s such a pain.” she said, tucking it behind her ear, with a little annoyance, “No idea how you deal with it, normally.” 

Kirihara looked up, raising an eyebrow. “It’s my natural hair. You get used to it.” 

“Natural? No way. Are you like half-foreign or something?” An asked, making her voice more high-pitched and cute. An-chan was much better at dealing with annoying people than Tachibana An ever would be and she did want to make a bit of peace. 

Kirihara snorted, softly and started outright laughing, which drew attention to them. An felt like she would be more okay with this if she knew exactly why he was laughing, Instead, she was left feeling increasingly awkward and annoyed. “God, you really can’t act. Good thing you aren’t on some drama or something.” he said, finally, inbetween obnoxious peals of laughter. 

And she’d been trying to be polite too. Seeing red for a moment, she scowled and rolled her eyes. “Well excuse for trying. It’s not easy to deal with _dicks_ in human form.” 

Kirihara laughed, even more, though this time was incredulous. “Well, you’re a piece of work, darling.”

An raised an eyebrow, with cool contempt. “Nobody calls me darling. If you say that again, pretty jacket or not, I’ll punch you right here.” Pretty sure that someone would stop her before something happened, but of course, the threat was the most important thing; that was what Akira had taught her. 

He snorted, cheeks going slightly red, whether from anger or embarrassment, An wasn’t sure. “I’d like to see you try. You couldn’t even reach my face, midget.” 

Before An could retort with something else cutting, the photographer returned, and scowled at them. “Focus please, let’s get this done quickly.” 

Somehow, it became easier to place her arms around Kirihara’s neck, tightening to an almost unreasonable level of pressure, while smiling beatifically. Kirihara still managed to smile through it, and his revenge was to pull her very _very_ close and squeeze her waist, like that corset she’d worn for some promo pictures previously. Unwilling to give in even one smidgen, An didn’t let her face change at all. When he pulled her into a backhug, her response after the picture was to immediately stamp on his foot with the base of her heel, and the sharp, pained exhale of breath against her blonde hair was like the biggest admittance of victory ever. Until he breathed into her ear, “Your voice is so grating that even violins would cry of despair.”

She squawked unhappily, turning around to whack him, hard, with indignation. “Kirihara-san!” she said, outraged, and the photographer sighed. 

“I should have known it was too good to last. Whatever, we got some nice shots, you two are free to go.” said the photographer, lazily waving them away.

An elbowed Kirihara, hard, straight to the gut, before stalking over to her manager, with a scowl. Kame-san cut off An’s ranting before it could start, by gripping her shoulder and pulling An from the room, not even looking up from her phone. God, An was fucking furious and her manager didn’t even have the decency to let An vent.

Turning around, to shoot one last glance at Kirihara, whose manager was verbally berating him for something, An scowled and vowed to call her brother when she got home. She would need the little bubble of peace that Kippei always managed to give her. 

(X)

At this point, An was starting to think that some higher deity hated her or something. Miserably, she stared down at the seating chart for the fashion show week, which she and Tomo were attending, while Sakuno filmed her solo MV. Sakuno deserved it, of course, garnering over half their fans by her pure and innocent image, and her beautiful haunting voice, but it still didn’t mean that An wasn’t a little bitter about not being able to go for the solo first, despite being the eldest. 

“Tomo,” asked An, staring at the sheet with a little despair, “Can we please switch?”

“Seats?” asked Tomo, pushing up to her tiptoes to see the seating chart. “Why?”

“Have to sit next to that dick, Kirihara, again. I can’t do it, Tomo.” An said, pulling a pathetic face. Tomo and Sakuno were closer to each other than they were to An, being the same age and very compatible, but they were still each other’s’ support systems and told each other everything, including enemies and crushes. Tomo had been first-hand witness to An’s rant about Kirihara, the moment she’d come home from the Nylon shoot, and had been a devious enabler of An’s circular ranting, by plying her with cheap sake. 

Tomo hummed, uncertainly, her small hand comfortingly on An’s shoulder as a balance. “I _would_ , but Yukimura Seiichi is sitting on the other side of me, and there’s no way I’m passing up conversation with him. You don’t really like his designs, but I think I might be in love with his paintings.”

An made a noise of betrayal and gaped at Tomo, shaking off Tomo’s grip so she could lean forward to back Tomo against the wall. “Tomo! Your thirst shouldn’t be outweighing my comfort. Chicks before dicks! Please? I’ll cover for your midnight bubble tea runs for a whole month, if we can switch.”

Tomo’s red lips twitched together, looking honestly torn, hands fisting in her adorable chiffon dress. “An-chan-senpai, please? I think I _really_ like him. And I’m his type; he said so in an interview once. Can’t you just ignore Kirihara-san? Or you could find Shiba-san and try to switch with her...?”

An groaned. Shiba was their reporter friend, well known and very friendly to them, despite their relatively new appearance on the entertainment scene. The problem with going to see Shiba and trying to switch with her was that Shiba sat right at the back, which meant less camera attention on her beautiful face, but the main problem was that Shiba would definitely not switch, because she was convinced that An and Kirihara were friends. 

Their cover pictures had looked just a bit too friendly, despite both of them having wanted to murder each other at the time, and it had sparked a whole bunch of internet comments shipping them, especially since the PR fiasco with Kirihara spilling coffee all over her, had managed to hit the forums at the same time. Luckily, she’d not been asked about Kirihara in any official interviews, but she knew that there were already people on the internet who shipped them a bit, if only for _‘aesthetics’_ , if their flooded twitter account was any indication. Still, their company had refused to address the rumours, fearing that denying anything would just fuel rumours further, something for which An was grateful. Shiba, despite An’s protests, seemed to firmly believe that they had some sort of chemistry and would definitely not switch with her if she asked. 

“I hate you, Tomo. Watch if I cover for your makeout sessions with Sakuno ever again.” An sulked, crossing her arms across her chest, with a huff. 

Tomo blinked, for a moment, before shaking her head, frantically. “We don’t makeout! Sakuno’s way too prude and scared for that....”

Deciding to ignore the fact that Tomo had basically admitted how much she would have very much wanted to do that, An turned on her heel and walked away, running her hand through her hair, absently. Although her stylist had wanted her to stay with blonde, especially since it had been a big hit with the fans, An had begged her to dye it into a deeper black, to contrast with her natural brown. Her stylist had agreed, but it also meant that An had to wear slightly thicker makeup, with smoky eyes and dark lipstick which itched a bit against her sensitive skin, but looked great for the cameras. She’d practically been assaulted with cameras at the red carpet yesterday, for the first arrivals and she was sure that today, she would be even more attention-grabbing. 

It would be great, and An would be very happy about all of that if that asshole wasn’t sitting next to her and ruining it. Her fist clenched for a moment, before a very familiar voice floated into her head, echoing a conversation she’d had with him, previously, late at night, when her manager hadn’t been monitoring them. _In times like this, you’ve got to be the better person. You’re going to have to interact with him, so why not try to be more civil? Swallow your pride and apologize for your bad reactions, be the better person in this simulation, and if it still doesn’t do anything, that’s when you’re free to hate him. But from what you’ve told me, he’s just annoying, not someone truly to be despised._

He’d always been better than her, An mused, as she tugged at the edges of her hair, taking a seat near the front of the fashion plaza early, waving at some reporters opposite her. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to give Kirihara another chance, but she also knew that there would be serious consequences if they continued to stay at odds. He had a popular variety show, she was someone who needed every contact she could get, if she wanted to persuade her company to give her a solo too, once Sakuno was done promoting, and he was someone she couldn’t afford to have as an enemy. 

Besides, she didn’t like the feeling of having to avoid anybody, not when An was usually such a good conversationalist. 

“Oh.” Kirihara muttered, as he drew closer to his seat, eyebrows furrowing. He wore something that looked pulled tight around his chest, but flowed loosely elsewhere. It would have looked like a fashion disaster on anyone else, especially in a shade of yellow that looked a little too mustardy to be pleasant, but he pulled it off with surprising grace. It made An feel a little self-conscious about her red shorts, maroon jacket draped over her shoulders and flowy, chiffon shirt, which made her look casually put together. “It’s you.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Ignoring the twinge of annoyance and the slight red that threatened to make An lose her temper, she took in a deep breath and shrugged. “It’s me.” she said, swinging her legs in front of her in a steady rhythm. “If you want to switch seats, I don’t care.”

Kirihara scowled and dropped into the chair, without another word, pulling out his phone, to scroll through something. An stared at the lights above the congregating photographers for a little while, before exhaling. It took courage to swallow her pride, more than Kippei would ever account for, she knew, but she had to do it. For the sake of her future. “Look, I’m sorry. I know we got off on a bad note, and it just escalated, but I am sorry.” she said, not looking back towards Kirihara. “That being said, I’m not sorry for being unable to put up with shit.”

Kirihara snorted, and there was a momentary rustling and an exhale, before he spoke again. “I accept your apology, and I guess I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to offend.” 

An held her tongue, but somehow she couldn’t really help but want to snark that calling her voice more rusty than a violin, was definitely a comment that was meant to hurt. But she was trying to be good, so asked instead, “Okay. You here for a particular fashion model? Or designer?”

Kirihara nodded, looking a little reluctant. “Yeah, a friend of mine, Jackal, he’s a model for that new fusion designer, Kite Eishirou? I’m out here to support him. You?”

An shrugged, tucking her hands underneath her thighs, not really sure of what she was doing. “Just here because I can. This sort of stuff is more Tomo’s scene than mine, but she didn’t want to go alone, and I didn’t have anything else to do, since Sakuno’s promoting.” She looked around her, eyes landing on the foreign celebrities, laughing loudly from further down the runway seating, “Besides, this way I can get a bit of eye-candy or something.”

Kirihara laughed, and it was surprisingly attractive, when it wasn’t mocking her. “Oh yeah? That’s like half the reason I end up coming here. It’s not really my scene either, but you know, Bros first and everything. Where are your scenes, then?”

Pulling a face, An tilted her head back. This was surprisingly turning into a pretty civil conversation, and she was surprised. “Mmm, I do better in the studio; dance or recording doesn’t matter, because I’m a bit of a workaholic. I like cafés too, and even clubs if I’m in the right mood. But fashion’s not something I obsessively follow; I just like wearing nice things.” 

“I feel you.” Kirihara said, nodding easily, black curls bouncing a bit. “I’m a club person myself, though I always end up at lounges instead, because my manager’s got connections there, and he likes to make me squirm inbetween old ladies who want me to play for them, even when I haven’t got my cello on me.” he said, rolling his eyes. 

An couldn’t help but grin, in commiseration. “Everyone wants you to break out and demonstrate your skill, even when you’re completely unprepared. I remember I was shopping, and some kids recognized me, and asked me to dance so they could get it on film, when I was wearing like eight-inch heels and jeans.” she said, leaning back a little more comfortably. 

“No way?” he asked, with a disbelieving laugh, “Did you do it?”

“Please, like I would embarrass myself like that. I just signed something for them and fled.” An corrected, rueful grin on her face. Tomo had laughed about that incident for ages, and it still made An a little amused to think about. 

“Why were you shopping in eight inch heels, anyway? Isn’t that impractical as hell? But I can barely use insoles without feeling weird, so I guess I can’t talk.” Kirihara muttered, pulling a face. 

“Insoles?” asked An, with a teasing smile, “You’re so weak, oh my god. Even Sakuno-chan can use insoles, and she’s one of the people with the worst balances I’ve ever seen. Hell, she dances in three-inch wedges. We all do.”

Kirihara shook his head. ‘That’s insane. I don’t understand it. I remember I wore insoles for the day of my first televised performance and almost tripped and broke my cello backstage.” he said, face distant. “I don’t think my manager ever forgave me for scaring him so much. Though he was more concerned about the cello than he was about me, so that was pretty ego-deflating.”

An laughed, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Good cellos are probably worth more than you, anyway.” she said, suppressing the very prominent urge to point out how that ego-deflation hadn’t lasted very long. That was just a little bit too much on the jibing edge for reconciliation. Kippei would be proud of her holding her tongue. “I would have been more worried about the cello too.”

“That’s because you’re heartless, behind all the giggling you do on TV.” Kirihara drawled, leaning back in his chair. 

“Hey, they weren’t marketing me as the nice member, anyway. Sakuno’s the one who’s genuinely sweet and all. I’m the one who gets shit done and looks hot while doing it.” An said, raising an eyebrow. Sakuno was pretty and wonderful, and An still didn’t know how Sakuno managed to stay eternally nice and unable to hurt people ever, not when An’s cutting tongue and Tomo’s thoughtless words could often scar so deeply, but Sakuno could barely even injure someone with her most damning insult. 

“Won’t disagree there.” Kirihara said, significantly and An’s mouth twitched, with a little more amusement, at the compliment. A way of smoothing over their conflicts, she supposed. “Though I would think that you would at least _attempt_ to be polite.”

“I think we moved out of the range of formality once you spilled coffee all over me.” An said, with a shrug, as Tomo took a seat next to her, already in deep conversation with Yukimura Seiichi, and another taller man with perfectly ash-blond hair. “I’m only polite to people who’re polite to me.” 

After a couple of moments of contemplation, Kirihara nodded. “Yeah, makes sense, I guess.” he said, and they lapsed back into silence for a moment, as An turned over to where Tomo was currently laughing at something Yukimura was saying, hand on his knee. Feeling slightly amused, An adjusted herself properly back on her chair. 

“Hey, isn’t that your song over the PA?” asked Kirihara, looking upwards, suddenly and An blinked in surprise. 

She closed her eyes and listened, and sure enough, the familiar pulsing beat of one of the songs that An had helped produce for a b-side track was being blasted over as waiting music for the fashion show. Slowly, she felt a grin spread over her face. “Yeah. Yeah, it is, and one of the b-side stuff too. Wow. That’s so weird.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you ever get over the sensation of hearing some of your shit on the radio. I walked into this perfume shop the other day, and one of my collabs was playing there and that was super awkward.” Kirihara said, cheerily, and damn, if his smile wasn’t cute when he wasn’t being obnoxious. She could almost see his appeal, when he wasn’t talking much. 

“There’s that too,” An acknowledged, leaning forward, placing her chin in her hand, “But I was actually talking about the fact that you recognized one of my lesser-known tracks instantly. Before I did. And I _produced_ the damn thing.” Kirihara’s expression looked cautiously caged, and An smirked, small and soft. “You also called me Tachibana-san when we first met, and I barely ever talk about my real name on interviews.” 

His face looked very closed off and An smiled mockingly-sweet. “It’s alright if you’re a fan and all, you know. I’m very popular.” 

“Please, everyone knows that the hottest member of Kaleidoscope is Tomo.” said Kirihara, rolling his eyes, but the tips of his ears were slightly red and his tongue kept running over his bottom lip as he spoke.

An just grinned, with sly amusement. “But you don’t know _her_ full name.”

Kirihara exhaled and now, she could almost see the tinge of pink across his cheeks. “God, shut up.” he said, but he sounded more embarrassed than annoyed, and An laughed, sweetly. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave it be. But you know. If you ever want an autograph.” she teased, one final time, leaning forward, almost suggestively. 

He shoved her side, with annoyance and he laughed again, drawing the attention of the trio next to them, who looked very amused. Tomo especially, grinned lecherously, sticking out her tongue in one slow languid motion. An rolled her eyes and jabbed Tomo’s ankle with her foot, as the music dimmed and the show started, feeling a lot happier.

(X)

“You know.” An murmured, as she adjusted her fingerless gloves properly, “I think that someone has to be organizing the fact that we always meet each other when we do things that aren’t music related. I didn’t even go to your variety show, but we ended up starring on the same episode of another show.” 

Kirihara, who was next to her, adjusting the rock-climbing helmet over his curly hair with difficulty and a slight scowl on his face, shrugged. “Whatever, it’s nice to see a familiar face, so I ain’t complaining, even if you really should give me your number so next time, we can actually coordinate this. But sounds like something my manager would find amusing, he’s the sort of person who likes to see me embarrassed or in pain.”

An turned to Kirihara, raising her eyebrow with slight amusement. Was seeing her embarrassing, since she was no longer causing him pain? Hmm, wasn’t that interesting information? “Isn’t he supposed to help you out?”

Kirihara looked down the cliff, upon which they were currently balanced, the production team a safe distance behind, as the abseiling experts tested the ropes and the tethers. In the distance, the sea roared, and the sky was slightly grey, predicting rain in the near future. Hopefully not when they were filming and trying to abseil down the cliff, but that might be too much to ask for. “I dunno, what part of being enrolled on this particular Golden Week Special makes you think that he wants me particularly alive?” asked Kirihara, looking nervous for the first time since An had first seen him, over three months ago. It was an unfamiliar expression on his sharp, usually smug features and it made him just a little more endearing and cute. 

An snorted, hiding her giggles in her sleeve. Admittedly, this wasn’t exactly where she had wanted to spend her Golden Week, but sometimes you had to take risks in order to make people like you. And this was one of the newest and coolest variety shows, which liked to test the nerves of various celebrities, by forcing them to complete activities on a time-limit. It was a variety show popular with the youth, which of course, meant that one of the Kaleidoscope Girls had to be on it. And An had drawn the short straw among the group, much to Tomo’s amusement and Sakuno’s abject relief. 

Still, with Kirihara as her partner and the MCs liking her sass, An thought that she was pretty set for having popularity and screen-time on the show already. But of course, they hadn’t exactly started the main challenge yet. The producer gave them a thumbs up and they all quickly gathered in the centre. 

“How is everyone feeling?” asked the tallest MC, smiling widely, with cheerful grace as they were all handed jackets, with cameras strapped to the front, to get a nice view of the underside of their faces. 

“I’m counting on Kirihara-san to catch me if I like slip and die.” An said, nose wrinkling as she shrugged on the vest. “Someone has to tell my brother that he doesn’t get any of my stuff because he laughed at me when I was auditioning to get a job at my agency!” 

There was a light peal of laughter among the MCs and the other contestants and Kirihara grinned, self-deprecating instantly, zipping up the jacket with smooth grace. “Ha, much more likely that she’ll have to catch me, I’m super clumsy when it comes down to it. Chaos-God and all!” 

“Oh, it could be worse,” joked the pretty actress beside them, whose name An had already forgotten, without the name-tags from the studio, “You could be scared of heights like Marui-kun.”

Marui, whom An supposed was the pink-haired man who was currently trying to not look backwards towards the rather large fall they had to go, grinned painfully. “I’m going to beat all of you, just watch.” he said, but his voice was shakier than his hands, and An had to reach out to press a hand to his shoulder, reassuringly. 

“Relax, I’ll fall first, so I can break your fall.” she said, cheerily and the entire group laughed, except for Kirihara, whose face looked suspiciously blank. With a slightly quizzical look, An fell back, as the MCs explained the rules. There were five coloured flags distributed down their drop for each team, and they had to get their coloured flags and reach the bottom before the other team could. Simple enough, but other than ‘no endangering the safety of the other contestants’, there weren’t any real rules, which meant that sabotage was an open option on the table. An considered suggesting it teasingly to the whole group, but fell silent at Marui’s slightly green-looking face, and quiet whimpers, too faint to be heard by the cameramen. Her hand slid down from his shoulder to the small of his back, where she patted him comfortingly, and Marui gave her a tight-lipped, but grateful smile in response. 

Kirihara said nothing, but his lips were pursed together as the MCs allowed them to go and get started, and there was something distinctly bad-tempered to the way that his hair stuck out of the back of his helmet. 

Shaking her head with confusion, An headed towards the edge of the equipment, waddling slightly to the edge, with the discomfort of a large tether pulling at the edges around her crotch. The experts tugged at the straps near her waist, before patting her back. “You’ll do fine.” said the man, looking at An’s skeptical expression. 

Well, she had to do well in any case, so it didn’t matter. Taking a deep breath inwards, and letting the nervousness stream out of her pores on the exhale, An dropped off the edge of the cliff, hands gripping tightly to the guide-rope, as she scaled downwards. Overestimating how much force her gravity gave her, she slid down quickly, further down than she’d wanted, missing the first flag that she and Kirihara had to collect. Thankfully, Kirihara hadn’t yet dropped down, which meant they had a chance. “Kirihara-san!” An yelled, “Be sure to stop yourself quickly when you fall, the flag’s closer to the edge than we thought. I’m going to try and get the next one.”

There was a vague sound of agreement from above, and An paused for a moment, with a slight frown, before slowly bouncing downwards cautiously, fingers barely leaving the guide-rope as she dropped down. It took a little bit of aiming, to drop himself down to the exact area where the flag would be, and An realized with horror, than no, she couldn’t just pick up the flag and keep jumping. It had been tied down to the small crannies in the rock. Which meant that she had to let go of her grip on the guide-rope to untie the flag and hope that her feet could keep her upright, if she squatted down properly. 

“Oh my god.” An said, to the camera, “I knew I should have worked on thigh strength in the dance studio. My dance teacher said that you can never do too many squats, but I didn’t believe her. I’m sorry sensei, next time I’ll listen to whatever you say, perfectly, otherwise I’m going to regret it on variety TV.” she said, hoping that the audience would be able to laugh at her struggles, at least, when the footage was edited. 

Trying to get her feet properly balanced on the edge of the cranny, An leant back in her harness, shakily, and her fingers cautiously crept away from the guide-rope. After a couple of seconds where she didn’t instantly topple to her death, An grinned, and started to untangle the knot. It was an awkward angle from which to untangle a rope, but An wasn’t risking anything. She could look like a fool on National TV, if it meant that she won. 

From above, she could see Kirihara hanging on his rope, untangling the flag, with much more ease. Unfair! “Yah, Kirihara-san, how are you doing it so well?” demanded An, as she fumbled with the string.

“It’s a skill you have to be born with. Like beauty.” Kirihara yelled back, and she didn’t have to be able to see his face, to be able to see the smug expression etched over his features. “What can I say; it’s just my natural talent.”

“Then hurry up and win the game for us then, fool!” An snapped, finally managing to untangle the flag, just as Kirihara started to drop down, with a finesse that An couldn’t even think about. In what world was it fair that he was able to instantly master how to use an abseil rope? 

“Hey, have you done this before? You’re way better at this than me.” asked An tucking the flag into her pouch, as they both zipped down, looking backwards and throwing glances over to the other team, on their left. 

“Nah, but Yukimura-san threw me out of a helicopter once, so he could test some shit for his painting. I think he just wanted me to scream and flounder in the middle of the air, but you know. Art. You can’t argue with artists. There’s always an explanation for how it interlinks with the annals of society or something.” Kirihara said, with a shrug and a mischievous grin towards the other side. “Hey, since I’m a master and all, want me to go over there and steal their flag? They’re like nowhere near it.” 

An laughed, grinning evilly, glancing back upwards towards where Marui and the actress were still struggling to untie their first flag, bickering something fierce. “Sabotage wasn’t banned in the rules~” she said, steadying herself against the cliff, as they rounded upon the third flag. “Glad we think alike. But wouldn’t it be too much for poor Marui-senpai? He looked like he was going to die. We can just win this normally anyway.”

Kirihara pulled a face, and this time, she definitely wasn’t imagining his bad temper. Did he not like Marui or something? But they’d been joking around when they’d filmed the studio segment, about how they were both linked by their crazy friends? Honestly, An couldn’t understand half of what was going through Kirihara’s mind. Every time she thought that she could empathize with him on a spiritual level about their mutual struggles, some other curveball managed to ruin it. “I guess...” he muttered. “If you want to be a killjoy, I suppose.” 

An shrugged. “Eh, we’re both mean, but we’re not assholes. Let’s just get the next flags and get down on steady ground. I think this tether is going to cut through my thighs, and that would suck.” As she finished speaking, a rather large droplet of water hit the front of her nose, and she instantly pulled a face. “Plus it’s raining, so the less time we’re on these stupid ropes, the better.” 

“It’s not like you wouldn’t have more flesh to spare, Ms. _Thunderthighs_.” Kirihara said, raising an eyebrow, as An leant forward to fumble with the ropes for the third yellow flag, ignoring the slick slide of the water across her slender fingers. The flagpole of the first flag was digging into the soft flesh of her thigh, and ached, but An, too afraid to lose her balance and drop the flag, didn’t move it aside. 

“I think that even with my ample thighs, I’m going to run out of unmarred skin, by the time this challenge is over. You have to carry me if I lose my legs, okay?” she called down to Kirihara, who’d already scaled across to the side with easy grace, to untie the fourth one, not even seeming phased by the steadily increasing rain against their sides. No _way_ that this was his first time abseiling. 

Tucking the third flag into her pouch again, An quickly scaled down, giving a quick thumbs up to the camera, as she grabbed the guide-rope again. Feeling a little more confident, An let herself drop for a bit longer, bouncing a little more against the edge of the cliff, letting the slip of the rain help her descent. Surprisingly, as she zipped past Kirihara, she could sort of start to feel the adrenaline in her bones, which could make something like this seem fun. _Still_ not what An would have chosen to do during her Golden Week, but sacrifices had to be made. 

Slowing down as she spotted the shock of yellow near the bottom of the cliff, An cautiously edged along the cliff side, abandoning the guide rope to clamber across the cold, wet rocks. “My fingers are basically holding onto a mini pool for algae. This is really gross.” An narrated, as she got closer to the flag. 

Kirihara also started to drop down, quickly, coming down from the other side, so they could both approach the fifth and final flag. “My hair is going to be a mess after this rain.” Kirihara yelled down and An made a vague noise of agreement, focusing on keeping her grip against the rock with her thighs, solid. Her breath was starting to get a little laboured now, and she frowned, feeling rather annoyed by this change in events. 

Turning angles carefully, they both awkwardly balanced together, to try and reach for the fifth flag. Kirihara reached forward at the same time as An, and their fingers brushed over each other, soft and just a little too intimate. An felt a shiver go down her spine, sensation of his slightly rough fingers against her skin, and suddenly, she felt very aware of how close they were, thighs brushing together through their sopping-wet trousers. Hoping that she wasn’t blushing, An pulled her hand back, to grip to the rock.

“Your flag, go on.” An said, with an awkward smile, far too aware of how closely they were tucked together here. Beyond the smell of petrichor in air, she could vaguely smell the artificial apple of his shampoo, and the deep spices of cinnamon from his cologne, and she couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by how nice it was, and how much it suited him. 

Kirihara shook his head, and a couple of flecks of water dripped from his damp hair, rolling across his golden cheek with slow intensity. An had to physically fight to urge to reach up and touch his cheek as well, reminding herself that this was _stupid_ and there were cameras hoisted to both of them, from a rather intimate angle. “Nah, it’s your flag, you got here first.” he said, and his voice was low and slightly out of breath also. 

An shook her head again, passing off her second shiver, as one from cold. “Let’s not play the _‘I’m more humble than you game’_ right now, we both know that you’ll lose. Take off the goddamn flag, so we can beat the pink team. My fingers are freezing anyway, they’ll be useless.” 

Kirihara made a low growl of exasperation, which ran through his entire body, and An had to pull away and start to drop down, before she lost the tight control over her body’s desires. God, she’d never had such trouble with physically attractive people before, especially when they were cocky, arrogant idiots. Still, for a cocky, arrogant idiot, he was pretty cute. And easy to talk to, in any case, now that there was no formality between them anymore. It was a pleasant surprise, to add one more easy conversationalist to her list, which currently consisted of Senri, Kippei, Miyuki, Akira, Tetsu, Kyosuke and Sakuno. It was a good list of people to be amongst. 

With a light smile, An let her feet touch the ground, and she shakily fell down to the ground, as an expert ran up, to unclip her from the tether. 

She grinned with relief, waving her two yellow flags at the camera crew who were already waiting. The assistant-production director gave her a thumbs up, as Kirihara slowly dropped down behind her, the other three flags clutched in his hand, and a slight red flush to his cheeks. 

“We won!” An said, with a light grin, waiting until he was stepping out of his tether to give him a quick hug. “It’s so good to be on secure ground again.” An said, with a slightly breathy, happy sigh.

Kirihara grinned at her weakly, and swallowed heavily. “Yeah...it is.” he said, as they both looked over to the pink team. His expression quickly melted into one of pure mischief, and An didn’t really want to think about what that meant. “Yah, Marui-senpai, looks like I’m going to be the one bankrupting you at all-you-can-eat tonight!” he screamed, cupping his hands around his mouth

There was vague grumbly shouting from up above them and An couldn’t help but catch Kirihara’s eyes and burst into pleased laughter, together. 

(X)

 **Unknown Number:** Hey, this is Kirihara Akaya! 

**Me:** I know that, I literally just gave you my number, silly.  
How do you have time to text anyway, isn’t your stylist also killing you for ruining your hair in that rain?

 **Kiributt:** You’re so salty.  
It’s not attractive in girls, you know.  
Especially when you’re a hypocrite and totally texting me back. 

**Me:** Like I care. Remember, Sakuno’s the cute one. I’m the sassy one. 

**Kiributt:** Like the spice girls, right? You would suit Victoria Beckham’s position more, your face is about as sour as hers.

 **Me:** If I can have half the money that she has, I would take her prune face, tbh. 

**Kiributt:** So you’re a gold-digger?

 **Me:** Just realistic about how much money is required to sustain the luxurious lifestyle I wish to live. How else do you afford bright purple Maseratis, a penthouse in New York, Paris and Tokyo, and diamond rings?

 **Kiributt:** （°o°；）  
....that’s _really_ ambitious, lol

 **Me:** Are you saying that I can’t sell enough? Our group’s definitely going to become big enough to do that  
...one day. 

**Saltyhara:** Well, can’t fault you for ambition, I guess. 

**Me:** That’s right. I’m going to take over the world, one album at a time. 

**Saltyhara:** Queen Dominatrix Tachibana An? I’m shaking in my shoes. 

**Me** I can’t even tell if you’re being serious or not  
But I’m totally taking that as a compliment, whether you meant it that way or not.  
Because that’s an awesome title  
(•̀o•́)ง  
...kinky implications aside. 

**Saltyhara:** You’re so annoying, I swear.  
Want to go for coffee sometime soon? 

**Me:** I....yeah, I guess, sure.  
You’re really confusing, you know that?

 **Kookyhara:** Sorry  
Was it too abrupt?  
Was sort of meaning to ask you out for a while  
To make up for the coffee I spilt all over you  
I just remembered  
And I’m shit at remembering shit for too long, so I had to say it

 **Me:** Yeah, I get it, np  
I was just confused lol  
You already paid me back the first time around, but you know, never going to say no to free drinks :D  
Where do you wanna head?  
I’m chill as long as they have black.

 **Kookyhara:** I heard there’s a nice place near Ikebukuro, called Seishun or something. Let me text you the picture of the address  
IMAGE SENT  
And who said it was free?? (-O-)

 **Me:** I know it, Sakuno likes it a lot.  
They have nice bubble tea :D  
Want to go there next wednesday? I’m free after 3.  
also i’m super cute and totally deserve free drinks everywhere?

 **Kookyhara:** fine, fine I’ll pay for your goddamn drink. see you then. 

(X)

With a slow yawn, An checked the time on her phone again, with impatience. Leaning against a streetlight wasn’t exactly the most comfortable when you were there for more than ten minutes, but she didn’t want to walk around too much for fear of accidentally missing her contact, in the crowd around them. 

Adjusting the black mask over her face, An scanned the crowd, for a familiar head of curly black hair. They had texted to meet here almost fifteen minutes ago, but Kirihara still hadn’t arrived yet, and An was starting to get a little worried. If she wasn’t lying to herself, she was pretty excited about getting to have coffee with Kirihara. They’d been texting a lot, inbetween busy schedules and drama with people in their lives, and she was surprised by just how it was to easily keep up a conversation with him, even if sometimes Kirihara only texted her lines of frustrated emojis and crying selfies, and she only replied with videos of laughing babies and dogs. It was a little bit of fun, in a life that was increasingly sucking the fun out of the music she’d once loved more than life itself. 

Every musician went through that, of course, the cycle of creativity inhibited by other factors such as overworking and exposure and public-friendly-songs. Eventually, they always found their love for music again, but it was still an unpleasant sensation, like pinpricks against her skin. But talking with Kirihara removed that, if only for a few moments, and she was grateful. 

There was the sound of panting from behind her, so An turned around to watch Kirihara almost collide with the street-light, clearly having run from the train station, mask dangling off one of his ears, showing off his red cheeks and ears. “Sorry I’m late, Tachibana-san! My manager was being a bitch about things, and I missed my train, so I had to sprint to make the opposite direction one and get here.”

An laughed, with amusement and reached up to hook the other end of the mask over his face, noting how he suddenly shut up, when he noticed her hand moving towards him. Was it--? “It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t worry, you’re not that late. And An-san works just fine, you know. An-chan is my stage persona, but Tachibana is too formal. We’re past formalities, right?” She said, cheerily, smiling softly. “Shall we go in?

Kirihara nodded, abruptly straightening and pushing through the crowd, ahead of An. An bit down on her lip, to stop herself from laughing, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as she followed him, a little more slowly. By the time she pushed into the cool coffee shop, Kirihara had already got in line, intently staring at the options of coffees he could choose from, eyes wide. It was cute, in that little child sort of way, and An sidled up next to him, with a smile.

“Know what you’re getting yet? I’ve heard that their macchiatos are good, but there’s too much milk for me to be able to get it.” An said, placidly, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket, nudging his side, with her elbow. 

“Still on a diet?” asked Kirihara, pulling a face, “And I’m thinking I’ll try their bubble tea or something, strawberry looks good.” 

Rolling her eyes, An kicked back on her heels. “When am I _not_ on a diet, Kirihara?”

“Akaya.” Kirihara corrected, very studiously not looking at her, judging by the way his shoulders sort-of tensed up and his chin went upwards. “If you’re An, I’m Akaya. It’s not like anyone else calls me Kirihara after several meetings. Pretty much everyone just calls me Akaya, no matter what I do. I don’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed.” 

“Or Akabrat.” said An, with a teasing grin, “I saw Niou-senpai teasing you on your variety show this week, everybody knows you so well.”

Akaya bristled, his hands clenching quickly into fists. “God, Niou’s so annoying, I swear, you never know whether you want to laugh at him or punch him in the face. But you know, socializing with him’s a necessary evil. One of the best bassists in the country, and all. I did a _lot_ of hustling to hit it big. My manager was really key to that, otherwise, I’d still be an awkward loudmouth brat at the backstage of classical concerts, still.”

“You mean that you’re _not_ a loudmouth brat behind the stage of J-Melo, now?” asked An, feigning confusion with a wide-eyed look of shock, and broke into amused laughter as Akaya lightly thwapped her shoulder, eyes crinkling upwards with reluctant laughter. “One black coffee please, extra hot.” She said, to the barista, who was waiting expectantly on them, looking slightly confused by their laughter. 

“One strawberry bubble tea please. And maybe one of your specialty pastries too?” Akaya said, and before An could do anything, he’d already forked over his wallet, to pay for both of them. The barista just took the card, and Akaya ignored An’s gaping (though admittedly, that could have been because the face mask covered her nose and mouth), to go and stand to the side, in order to wait for their order.

“Hey, Akaya-kun, I was joking about the drinks by text, I would have paid for mine.” An said, following him, with a slightly annoyed frown, “Let me pay you back, please.”

“It’s like 500 yen, I can afford it.” Akaya said, rolling his eyes, leaning back against the counter, “I’m a big boy earning big bucks. More than you must be making, if your salary is split between three of you. You can pay next time.”

An was still a little annoyed, but she jumped on the conversation continuation anyway, she’d text him her displeasure about it later, instead of make a fuss now. She disliked those sorts of girls anyway, she wasn’t _that_ stubborn. Only a little stubborn. “Next time, huh? We gonna make this a regular thing?”

“Well sure,” Akaya said, not getting flustered like An had been hoping, “Unless your diet can’t take it.” His tongue came out, with a mischievous grin, and it took rather more effort than An had been hoping to drag her eyes away, to look upwards. 

An laughed, cheerily, pressing her hands together. “Oh trust me, the amount of coffee I drink per day is accounted for in my diet, because I drink so much, regardless of whether I come to coffee shops or not. My dance studio has a coffee machine in the corner, so I’m always ready to face the day.”

Akaya gave her a look of pure judgement and wrinkled his face, into an absolutely hilarious expression, even with half of his face covered. An had to clutch her knees to make sure she didn’t topple over from laughter, and she knew that she was drawing attention from other people who were waiting, which was probably a bad idea since she _was_ a hot-issue celebrity, but it was hard to not be a raucous teenager when she was talking to Akaya. It was just fun, more fun than she’d ever expected to have with the boy. 

It was funny to tease him, watch his face twist into disgust or annoyance, then melt straight back into amicable amusement, it was hilarious to hear his little anecdotes of other people fucking up or himself fucking up, and in an increasingly busy schedule, filled with tiring activities and annoying people, he was quickly becoming a little bit of a haven, like Akira, Shinji and Kippei were, in a way that even her closest friends and confidants Sakuno and Tomo couldn’t be.

It was weird though, An mused as she straightened to grab her coffee and find a table, Kippei, Akira, and the other Fudomine boys were comfortable, because they were not in the industry, which meant she was Tachibana An, and not An-chan. But Akaya _was_ in the industry, which should have logically meant that he was stressful, especially since she knew that he was a low-key fan (no matter how much he denied it). And yet. And yet, it was still easy to be Tachibana An with him. And that was nice and weird all at once. 

People like that were rare. She’d have to keep him close. 

Grabbing a seat in the back corner, away from the windows and from the line-of-sight of most people, Akaya almost knocked over the hanging flower-pots, as he tried to sit down, and An snickered, pulled from her thoughts, easily. “Clumsy idiot.” She teased, coming in to sit next to him, instead of opposite from him, much to his confusion. “Were you always like this?”

Akaya snorted, as he took a sip of his bubble tea. “My manager, Yanagi-san, calls me a chaos-magnet. I just attract trouble, even when I’m not actively looking for it, like I was as a kid.” 

“Oh, were you a bad kid?” asked An, fingers fidgeting absently with the coffee sleeve, eyes trained on Akaya’s face, “I can’t see you as one.”

Pulling a slightly unpleased face, Akaya tilted his head from side to side. “Sort of? I got into a lot of fights because I had a lot of pent-up anger from being extreme music prodigy who went nowhere, and I pissed off people in general, and usually people who were better than me. I wasn’t exactly the smartest kid either, so I just got a lot of negative attention. But I never did committed any crimes or shit.” He assured, as he popped open the box and split open a rather large cream puff. 

Pulling off a little bit of the cream puff, despite Akaya’s muffled sounds of protest, and popping it into her mouth, An nodded. “Ha, I know that feel. It was the same for me and my brother, though it was because he was a huge matyr, and I loved him and I was better at finding tactical retreats anyway, so we got into fights against bullies and shit. My mum used to despair so much.”

Akaya’s eyes widened, as he swallowed quickly. “Really?” He asked, voice clearly shocked. “You used to get into street fights?”

An laughed, and took another sip of her coffee. “Tried to not make it a habit, because dancing becomes hell-on-earth once you have a billion bruises everywhere, but when my brother and I chanced upon unfair fights, we always got involved. Nobody expects it, and it’s been years, but yeah. I bet I can throw a better punch than you.”

With a light snort of amusement, Akaya sucked up three pearls, his slightly reddening lips curling perfectly around the straw, and An had to pretend to take a sip of coffee, to hide the slight gulp of nervousness. It was harder to be aloof, when she remembered that he was hot. “No way. I got out of all my troubles with a fist, until my manager pulled my shit together. I’d definitely be better than you.”

“Sure, sure.” An said, and before she could chicken out of it, leant into his side, with a contented sigh, “Let’s test it out some time on variety, I’ll definitely beat you up.” She could feel him tense underneath her, and when her eyes darted up to his face, he was starting to turn a little red, but he pulled off a cocky smirk as he noticed her gaze on him.

“We can do it on my show, and my editors can hold it as a fair contest. Otherwise you’ll totally cheat, I know you.” Akaya said, with a slightly more strangled voice. With what was perhaps the most awkward hand gesture ever, his arm sort of half-edged across her back, as if trying to test out the waters of physical touch, but didn’t want to get beat up if he was wrong. 

“Ready to be destroyed on national television?” An asked, with a laugh, leaning in a little closer to him, pressing her thigh to his, trying to not notice the way that he’d changed his shampoo since last week, and how she thought that sandalwood smelled even better than apple. If he couldn’t take the hint here, she might just have to dump him before he started to date her. 

His arm carefully edged a little bit more across her back, a little closer to her shoulders, but still not quite there, and this was almost painful. Placing down her coffee cup, An reached back to pull his arm over her properly, raising one eyebrow at him. He looked even redder, and scowled at her when he met her gaze. “You’re so annoying, god.” He said, pretending to mock-choke her.

An made some fake-strangled sounds at his actions, but couldn’t hide the grin that spread over her face. “I have to do everything in this relationship, you know.” She whined, licking her lips a little nervously as the smell of his almost-cinnamon cologne started to hit. 

“Excuse you, I’m always texting you first.” Akaya sniffed, looking insulted, “And who was it that facilitated our first meeting?”

“By spilling hot coffee on me.” An said, rolling her eyes. “And you were a total jerk that whole meeting. You’re just lucky that I decided to apologize.” 

“I was not--I wasn’t! I promise.” Akaya said, suddenly straightened, hand coming away from An to shake his hands, frantically, “Like, not at the _first_ meeting, anyway, I thought you were pretty chill. I dunno, I just say dumb shit, and I wanted to try and flirt with you, then...well, at least you didn’t punch me like everyone else when they get pissed.”

An blinked, before laughing, shaking her head with dark amusement. Flirting? That was flirting to him? _This_ was flirting, this awkward dance between them, of finding what made each of them comfortable and happy, not offensive pick-up lines. “I wanted to, trust me. I was just thinking of image. Who even told you that pick-up-lines was something that worked?” She demanded, jabbing his chest and he shrugged, looking a little panicked. For a moment, An considered making him sweat it for a bit longer, but settled back against his side, instead, deciding to be a little merciful. “Whatever you weirdo, I forgave you a while back, so don’t move, you’re comfortable.” She ordered, as she drained her coffee, happily. 

“Yes, Overlord Tachibana.” muttered Akaya, but his arm slunk around her shoulder again and when An looked up at him, he had a slightly goofy smile on his face.

“That’s right, I think I like the ring of that. You should call me that more often.” She said, but her smile was teasing, and god, she couldn’t stop smiling at him, and this was so dumb. But she had a feeling that this was what it was supposed to be like, anyway. 

They sat in silence for a few moment, as Akaya slurped up the last of his tea, and An cuddled into his jacket, trying to subtly inhale more of his cologne smell from his jacket, because it was rather soothing, reminding her a little bit of their kitchen at home, back when she’d been a kid in Kyushu. Finally, Akaya coughed, softly. “So, how does this work?”

“Mmm, well, I’m not an idol, so we can date. My manager would say that we keep it on the down-low and not announce it, just confirm it if internet rumours get too much. People were already theorizing about it after the photoshoot anyway, so whatever.” An said, looking up, “What about you?”

“Probably the same conditions. My terms will probably less restrictive than yours, just because I’m an indie artist.” Akaya said, with a shrug, resting his head against hers, in way that would be awkward, if it wasn’t cute and comfortable. 

An hummed, and nodded, minutely, so as to not jolt his head. “Okay. We’re still doing coffee dates, right?”

“Mmmhm.” Akaya hummed, in agreement, and turned to the side a little bit, and their cheeks brushed against each other. There was no way that An was hiding the small gulp in her throat now, being so up close to Akaya, and feeling his slightly pockmarked skin against hers. It was strange, and god, she wasn’t a teenager anymore, but she was still vaguely nervous about all of this. His green eyes looked even prettier from up close and the lines of his face softened away, making him look entirely too kissable.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, before An could even get there, and his voice was a little crackly, and she could forget the slightly high-pitched edge at the end of his words, because she wasn't sure her own voice would be quite so stable. So in response, quickly making sure that nobody was coming by, she pulled down their masks and turned around to press their lips together, gently. 

His lips were chapped against hers and tight-lipped, but after the initial surprise, melted into hers, into a slow and easy slide. They twisted around in their seats, a little awkwardly, but eventually, Akaya’s thumbs ran over the edges of her cheekbones, and her own hands were looped into his curly hair as they breathed in each other. 

Oh yeah. This was definitely a good day. An pulled away with a careful breath, to look over Akaya’s reddening cheeks and ears, and his spit-slick lips, before diving back in for another one, with a little more teeth, tugging at the plush bottom lip. Akaya’s fingers jerked against her face, and he pulled away fast, and An, for a moment, worried whether she’d done something wrong, but at his red cheeks and his slightly darker smile, she knew that she’d done a little too well. 

“This is so totally not something we should be doing in public.” He said, voice a little deeper, “Overlord or not.”

“We’re taking the makeout session back to your apartment, then?” asked An, pushing away from Akaya and looping the mask back over her face, which hid most of the evidence of them having kissed and tugged through her hair, to make it look a little straighter, like it usually was. 

Akaya pulled up his own mask, and tossed away his cup, before winding an arm over her shoulder. “Of course.” he said, cheerily.


End file.
